Friday Poetry: Charles Causley

Happy Friday!

I hope you all have some fab plans for the weekend.

My chosen poem for this week is by the English poet, school teacher and writer Charles Causley (1917-2003).

I am the Song

I am the song that sings the bird.
I am the leaf that grows the land.
I am the tide that moves the moon.
I am the stream that halts the sand.
I am the cloud that drives the storm.
I am the earth that lights the sun.
I am the fire that strikes the stone.
I am the clay that shapes the hand.
I am the word that speaks the man.

Charles Causley

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Claude McKay

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has some fab books to read over the weekend.

My chosen poem this week is by the Jamaican- American poet and writer Claude McKay (1890-1948). McKay studied in the United States and became a prominent figure in the Harlem Renaissance.

After the Winter

Some day, when trees have shed their leaves
And against the morning's white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night,
We'll turn our faces southward, love, 
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire the shafted grove
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.

And we will seek the quiet hill
Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
And works the droning bee,
And we will build a cottage there
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,
And ferns that never fade. 

Claude McKay

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Sergei Yesenin

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good week so far and have some good plans for the weekend.

My chosen poem for this week is by another new poet for me, Sergei Yesenin. Yesenin (1895-1925) was a Russian lyric poet.

The Birch Tree

Under my window
Tucked in the snow
White birch retired
Clad in silver glow.

On the fluffy branches
Snowy-trim with silver-tinge
Melted around catkins
Forming white fringe.

Like golden fires
Snow-flakes blazed
While birch stood still
Asleep, or amazed.

Meanwhile, lazily
Strolling around,
Dawn threw more 'silver'
On the twigs (and ground). 

Sergei Yesenin

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Sara Coleridge

Happy Friday!

I hope you all have some fab plans for the weekend. I am rather gloomy now the Christmas decorations have come down as I always find the house so bare and dull once the pretty decorations are taken down.

My chosen poem today is from a new poet for me. Sara Coleridge (1802-1852) was a translator, novelist and poet. Coleridge hailed from a very literary family, her father was the early Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Her uncle was the Poet Laureate Robert Southey and her neighbour was William Wordsworth. Coleridge was surrounded by talented poets.

The Garden Year

January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow. 

February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes, loud and shrill,
To stir the dancing daffodil.

April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.

May brings flocks of pretty lambs
Skipping by their fleecy dams.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hands with posies.

Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots, and gillyflowers.

August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.

Warm September brings the fruit;
Sportsmen then begin to shoot. 

Fresh October brings the pheasant;
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast;
Then the leaves are whirling fast.

Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.

Sara Coleridge

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Eleanor Farjeon

Happy Friday!

I hope you are all looking forward to New Year and have some fun plans for New Year’s Eve. We will probably have a quiet New Year’s Eve at home but we have a nice bottle of champagne to help us celebrate.

My chosen poem today is by one of my favourites Eleanor Farjeon.

Poetry

What is Poetry? Who knows?
Not a rose, but the scent of a rose;
Not a sky, but the light in the sky;
Not the fly, but the gleam of the fly;
Not the sea, but the sound of the sea;
Not myself, but what makes me
See, hear, and feel something that prose
Cannot: and what it is, who knows?

Eleanor Farjeon

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Cicely Mary Barker

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone is ready for Christmas. My chosen poem today is a favourite of mine by Cicely Mary Barker.

Sadly our tree won’t have a Christmas Tree fairy living in it because our tree is artificial, this is mainly because my husband and myself are both allergic to real Christmas trees.

The Christmas Tree Fairy

The little Christmas Tree was born
And dwelt in open air;
It did not guess how bright a dress
Some day its boughs would wear;
Brown cones were all, it thought, a tall
And grown-up Fir would bear.

O little Fir! Your forest home
Is far and far away;
And here indoors these boughs of yours
With coloured balls are gay,
With candle-light, and tinsel bright,
For this is Christmas Day!

A dolly-fairy stands on top,
Till children sleep; then she
(A live one now!) from bough to bough
Goes gliding silently.
O magic sight, this joyous night!
O laden, sparkling tree!

Cicely Mary Barker

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Eleanor Farjeon

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone is having a good week so far and you all have exciting weekend plans. I will be honest December is not proving to be our best month. I have spent most of the week without a car and just because I have a hugely busy weekend of playing jobs my car is still not fixed so I will have to borrow my Mom’s car. This will be the first time ever my Mom will have let me drive her car.

As we get closer to Christmas I have decided to go for a Christmas themed poem.

Mary's Burden

My Baby, my Burden,
Tomorrow the morn
I shall go lighter
And you will be born. 

I shall go lighter,
But heavier too
For seeing the burden
That falls upon you. 

The burden of love,
The burden of pain,
I'll see you bear both
Among men once again.

Tomorrow you'll bear it
Your burden alone,
Tonight you've no burden
That is not my own

My Baby, my Burden,
Tomorrow the morn
I shall go lighter
And you will be born. 

Eleanor Farjeon

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Thomas Hardy

Happy Friday!

I hope everyone has had a good Friday so far and have some exciting plans for the weekend. My chosen poem today is by one of favourites, Thomas Hardy.

Birds at Winter Nightfall

Around the house the flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone
From holly and cotoneaster
Around the house. The flakes fly! - faster
Shutting indoors that crumb-outcaster
We used to see upon the lawn
Around the house. The flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone!

Thomas Hardy

Happy Reading

Etsy

Friday Poetry: Harold Munro

Happy Friday!

The poem I have chosen for today is a new poet for me. Harold Munro (1879-1932) was an English poet. As the owner of the Poetry Bookshop in London, he helped many poets to get their poetry into the public light.

Overheard on a Saltmarsh

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring. 

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads, I want them. 

No.

I will howl in a deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.

No. 

Harold Munro

Happy Reading

Etsy